The Distant Threshold
The first thing you lose is the right to be surprised. You stand in the vaulted hall of the Inquisitorial Court, the air thick with the scent of stale incense and damp stone, and you know with a cold, technical certainty that the floorboards will creak under your weight. They do. The sound is a dull thud, a mechanical failure of the wood, and it draws the eyes of the High Inquisitor, a man...
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